Weapon XL
by Leighton Harper
Summary: Ajax goes looking for an old employee of Project X and finds his daughter, a woman from his recent past, instead. Pre-Deadpool movie, some Ajax origin. Promise it's not your cliche 'making Ajax feel stuff' story. A tiny bit AU.
1. 2015

***REVISED ON 4/5/2016***

 **Disclaimer : obviously I don't own Deadpool characters, just my OC Alex and her family. Spoilers for Deadpool Movie later on. Rated M because Deadpool. **

**...**

"Father, please! I couldn't save you even if I—" blood splattered everywhere from William Wiley's mangled skull, which now found itself wedged between a brick wall and a pale fist. Two glossy green eyes widened as the mouth silenced, William's clenched fingers dropped limply from the girl's blue sweater and the knife fell away from her scarcely nicked neck. The fist tossed the body aside, it fell back on to the pavement with the beer and blood that ran down the drain, out of the way.

"That wasn't a part of the plan," Ajax said aloud. He kept his eyes trained on the brunette as she raised her eyes up to him in a mild state of shock. He'd heard her before he realized she also held the attention of his intended target and tracked them down to here. She'd been singing her favorite song that she always use to sing as she danced down the street with a group of people whom he inferred to be her friends; he would have recognized it anywhere. A raccoon scuddled out from under a moldy cardboard box by her boot and drew him back to the moment. He'd been waiting three years for this. "Alexandria. You're supposed to be in Europe."

Alex shrugged. "I'm not." She eyed him suspiciously. She knew it was him. She would never be able to forget his accent or crystalline eyes, or even his face without being marred with cuts and pints of dried blood. But his voice that was once warm, brave, and loving had grown cold and commanding. His iridescent eyes now hollow, shallow ponds that once were oceans. _The program really does change people_ , she thought.

Ajax laughed, "you're not, are you?" Ajax began looking around the alley, considering his options since having just killed who was supposed to be his special recruit.

She shook her head. "Where's your collar, Frances?"

A rough hand darted out and grabbed her chin, his focus instantly placed back onto her. "Frances died years ago. It's Ajax now, love."

Alex felt the coolness of the wall against her back as the force knocked her back a step, but she remained unshaken by the strangeness of the familiar stranger before her. "You mean Ajax is what's left of Frances," she said she delicately ran her fingers over his own, loosening his grip, then guiding them away from her face. He dropped his hand to his side. "It's barely even his body now, is it?"

He stared into her green eyes, the feeling of escaping through their forests lurking in the back of his brain. Mentally he shook the ghosts away. "And whose fault would that be?" She stared at him, _Well that shut her up,_ he smirked. He wondered if she could tell that now he felt nothing. "Still like waffles, Alex?"

 **….**

She poked her waffle with a silver fork, cautiously as if it might bite her. Ajax found this girl very amusing already. "Problem?" he asked.

"I didn't know people actually liked the waffles at Waffle House," Alex said, voice laden with judgements. She looked around the empty diner and took in the overwhelmingly yellow booth upholstery—much of which was stained with skeptical brown and dirty red splotches.

"It's part of my mutation, Alexandria. Part of having no nerve endings means I can't taste or smell, either."

"How many mutations are there, exactly?" she asked curiously.

"Didn't your father or grandfather tell you anything about your legacy?" Ajax rebutted with narrowed eyes.

"No, not really. Back then I wasn't keen on asking questions. I just wanted to help people."

"107 that I know of," he replied. "Suppose you and your father weren't particularly close considering he nearly killed you for being unable to cure his cancer…I came for your Dad, tonight. I was going to activate his mutation to settle a debt that he owes. He tried to trick us into thinking the same assassin that killed your grandfather offed him too, but we knew he wasn't the valuable target," Ajax explained. "Never liked him though. Not the brightest Wiley of your bunch. Not close at all."

"You never liked anyone but me," Alex challenged.

"No one liked anyone but you."

"Exactly." Ajax raised an eyebrow at her prompting her to elaborate on the issue that she took with his statement but she waved her hand dismissively.

He let it go, finding her past now rather disinteresting after all. "I do wonder though, how come you haven't joined any government services since your apparent freedom? They take care of white lighters well, you're quite the asset darling."

Alex looked ponderous for a moment as she took another bite. Ajax lifted his chin from his newly healed knuckles and straightened in his seat. Silently he studied the details of her face. Her flushed cheeks and light olive skin pleased him still, in combination with her long chocolate hair and long-lashed round green eyes. "You still don't know a damn thing, do you? It's like you still think they're going to make you a super-soldier instead of a slave, even without steel around your neck."

Cooley Ajax stood, pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table. He looked at her one more time. "Here," he said as he handed her a black card. Their fingers brushed and Ajax internally braced himself but felt nothing but the usual emptiness. She looked at him peculiarly. Secretly relieved, he stood from the table leaving his waffles uneaten. "If you ever want to come by the workshop, which I now operate for the record," Alex rolled her eyes mentally wondering if she was supposed to be impressed by that, "…or if you just want to talk, ask for Ajax. I'll be there. Unlike your family, I'm willing to wager that once and for all we can actually fix your control issues."

She scrunched up her nose as if receiving the invitation back to hell was smelling rotten meat. _After everything, what would following Frances back into the underworld do to me now?_ she pondered as she watched his black leather back walk out the door.

 **….**

"William Wiley won't be joining us anymore," Ajax said into the speaker of his iPhone. He walked down a dark Brooklyn street towards his motorcycle.

"Hey honey," a red dressed hooker cooed, reaching for his bicep. He slapped her hand away hard without sparing her so much as a glance. Not the night for that.

"There's been a change of plans, I've recovered something much more useful to the organization… Just wait. I'm telling you, she's special… She'll come around. She feels too much."


	2. February 2012

_February 2012_

The first few days of healing, she would introduce herself to the patients and explain to them that she could help them—heal their physical wounds—that she was proof that mutating could be a positive thing. After a particularly tiring Tuesday, she'd given that up. If they knew her name, they would call it, plead it, or curse it. If they could speak they begged her not to leave. It broke her heart and wore her down, although that was part of the reason that Alex found herself in the workshop—to become tougher and stronger so that she could exercise her abilities and the amount of energies she exerted at will. Her father William, more of a henchman than a doctor, had retaken custody of her after her mother had died and her step-father had given up custody of her around the time that what he referred to as when her "problematic behavior" started. It was her grandfather's idea, however, to homeschool her at his workshop.

Every day for the last three weeks her grandfather Winston Wiley had upheld her to a certain routine: Alexandria had the mornings to herself as she liked, at eleven a.m. on weekdays she would spend four hours with a tutor on schooling (which she had nearly completed) while weekends she would dedicate this time to projects, at three-thirty she would begin her special training, at six eat dinner, then finally at seven her grandfather would hand her a clipboard with a list of patients to be healed by morning—the sooner she completed her tasks the sooner she could slink into the night and pretend to be a normal teenager. And so for twenty-one days her life carried on as so.

The first two weeks Winston would follow her from patient to patient to help her assess their ailments and monitor the way she relieved them. But now he allowed her to work on her own, confident that she could at the very minimal level perform the way in which he required her too. Winston and his employees noted that with the advancing recovery times of subjects meant that they could churn out more mutants than before, although Alex had only been healing a short time—already one of her patients had mutated twice faster than he'd been predicted to.

Today Alex ran her finger down the list of patient numbers, matching them with their admittance dates. Some were familiar numbers whom she had worked on before (3KL966 was a real screamer, 7YR811 was battling terminal tuberculosis—that she couldn't heal). Other numbers were not. Part of her training was assessing their injuries herself so it was her job to ascertain from the patient precisely what emtests /emthey'd been subjected to this round. She worked her way from 5DV441 through 8UU946, humming cheerfully as she only had to muzzle 3KL966 once tonight, when she found herself outside of a makeshift cubicle the held only one patient.

According to her paper, here lay subject 9AX020, in the program 43 days. She hemmed to herself remembering tending to his space-mate 5IW834 her first week, but he'd since mutated and had obviously yet to be replaced. She stepped into the patient's area and pulled a screen behind her to close of the room. Unlike when the doctors operated on patients here, she found alone with her they felt more at ease if they were more isolated, perhaps unable to see the rest of the abysmal workshop made them feel safer. She expected some sort of reaction from the patient, but as she approached Alex noted two closed eyes and shallow breathing. She gazed at the male patient, pondering whether or not she should wake him from his peaceful slumber. She felt guilty about prodding a patient without their consent, even if she was meant to make them better. 9AX020 had no visible injuries aside from vague bruising on a chiseled cheek bone below his right eye, probably three days old.

Tentatively she found herself at the side of his gurney. The sheets looked wet. She pressed two finger on the cloth next to his hipbone, it could have been piss but it smelt like ammonia. She would have to remove the sheet, probably even his hospital gown, to get a look at his midsection. If he had wet the gurney, it was either because he had an accident in his sleep (not totally uncommon) or because he had some sort of internal injury. She leaned towards internal injury because of the lack of visible external lacerations or markings. She ran her fingers delicately up and down the length of the man's arm that rested nearest to her, oh how she hated to disturb him. Her eyes zeroed in on patches of skin that seemed to be yellowing around his inner elbow where the skin was soft and had many veins. Another sign of internal injury.

"Shouldn't we have a proper date first love, before you start teasing me in my sleep?" the body croaked. Alex moved her eyes from his skin to his face as a smile set onto her own. Blue eyes met greeted her surprise with an exhausted grin.

"I'll have to remove your clothes so that I can determine precisely what bits of you need fixing tonight," Alex said, trying to stay dethatched and professional instead of blushing at the Englishman, made apparent by his assuaging accent.

"That'll be the first thing I do when I get out. I'll take you and your pretty green eyes on a date. I was going to eat chocolate cake, but at the speed you're moving our relationship along at, I'll have to catch up," he laughed quietly. But quickly his chuckles turned to violent coughs and he groaned—as Alex removed the sheet she noticed a new stain appearing in his gown, spreading slowly. Not just yellow, but yellow and red. Not good. "I'm sorry," he muttered, suddenly more embarrassed than flirtatious.

She consciously unknitted her eyebrows and smiled at him, softly attempting to put him back at ease. She knew she'd have been mortified if she were the one on the gurney, even though it wasn't his fault. "Nothing I haven't seen before," she lied quietly. "I'll have you all fixed up in no time." He remained quiet. She wished she could remove his bindings but she was explicitly told not to do so without proper supervision should a patient be rabid and attack her suddenly. She wanted to change his sheets. At the very least she'd deliver a new gown and heckle a henchman until she got the gurney replaced.

Carefully, she lifted up the soiled gown and rolled it up to the man's chest. She kept her eyes trained on his anatomy and focused on the biological task at hand. It kept the flush from her face and hopefully his. He hissed however as she laid her hands on abdomen. She looked at him curiously. With his eyes fixed on the ceiling he mumbled "cold hands."

"What happened today?" she asked as she dragged her palms over swollen skin. The puffiness helped identify the area of trouble, she suspected he was suffering severe liver damage.

"Might've been the fire hose… oh no, that wasn't today. Today was electro-shock therapy. Not total electrocution, but selectively," he said. Bitterness tainted his groggy voice.

"Oh. Well that makes sense." He started to laugh again but she pressed down on his flesh causing him to yelp instead. "This is going to hurt a little, but if it's too much the safe word is…"

"Cleopatra." Alex raised an eyebrow at him. "Shakespeare's best work."

"Arguably," she said as she activated. The matter around her hand began to bend, creating a mirage like affect around the healing area. "I'm personally a bigger fan of The Tempest."

"Not a huge fan of Romeo?" he asked through gasps.

"She shook her head. It was hard for her to try to envision her handiwork while carrying a conversation. But healing could be immeasurably painful…imagine all the damage that would normally take months to repair rapidly sewing itself back together within a few moments. That's what white lighters do, they see it all in their minds eye as they extend their energy from one body into another. "Not as bad I thought, just a slight tear," she said aloud.

"Romeo?"

"Oh Romeo. He wasn't very bright, now was he?" she asked, playing along.

"I suppose he wasn't."

"All done," she said as she began to deactivate.

He strained to crane his head to an angle at which he could see the product of her work but gave in to the restraints instead. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Don't have one," she said coolly, as she pulled down his gown. She left the discarded sheet on the floor, fully intending on sending a clean one back.

"Everyone has a name. Mine is—"

"9AX020," she cut him off. "That's the only name you have behind these walls." He looked at her surprised, perhaps a little hurt as well, but she brushed it off. "9XL422. That's my name. Goodnight," said Alex as she picked up her clipboard and moved towards the doorway.

"9XL422?" he called from the gurney. She paused with her hand placed still on the screen and returned her gaze to him. He was smirking at the ceiling. "In forty years when our grandchildren ask how we met, don't forget to tell them how you were so stunning that I pissed myself at the sight of your beauty."

"Goodnight 9AX020."

"Sweet dreams 9XL422."


	3. Almost New Orleans (2015)

**Hi guys! So I've now seen Deadpool three times and Rolling Stone just announced that Reynolds inked a contract for a sequel! So excited. But I'd be even more excited for some reviews~~**

 **...**

" _…leave a message at the tone…_ "

"Hi. This is Alexandria Wiley. 9XL422. I'm ready."

 **….** ** _six weeks later_** **...**

It was another wet, black night that suited Alex's temperament perfectly as she brooded on a bench under flickering yellow lights, toying with fraying rubber at the bottom of her boot. The Greyhound had been late, and now a mechanic was screwing around with something inside of the bus's metal interior. Forty-five minutes ago most of the passengers said their goodbyes to love ones while she sat alone eating red licorice from a vending machine. Esme, an older woman whose golden eyed son had dropped her off at the station, had sat down next to her at some point. Lonely, she'd tried to question Alex about why she was boarding a bus to New Orleans, but Alex wasn't in the mood—people on the run don't usually talk about why they need to disappear with total strangers. "He chose another woman, didn't he? Men are all scum, save for my little boy Nico…suppose he's not so little anymore, but I raised him to be better," Esme drawled between cigarette puffs. Alex nodded absentmindedly. "You'll find a nice man in the south, the boys there are like honey. 'So cold up here, these northerners can't feel a thing. Think the bus is leaving soon, sugar?" Alex scanned the demeanor of the mechanic from afar for any indications of progress and shrugged. "Not in the mood for talking tonight? That's alright I suppose. But ya look a'freezin you skinny bag of bones. I'll go get us some coffee. And maybe some chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better," said Esme as she stood up from the bench. Alex smiled the stranger's kindness, as annoying as the woman was.

Feeling a little uplifted by the human condition for once, Alex put her palms face down against the bench on either side of her thighs and closed her eyes. First a head of greasy black hair, a strong forehead, then a pair of brown eyes…she envisioned the mechanic working on the bus. She felt all of his frustration and anguish as she screwed up her eyes trying to replace it with optimism and focus. The air around her flat hands glimmered as her energy moved. _Concentrate,_ Alex chanted in her mind.

 _Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!_ "Hey boss… I think I got it!" the man yelled to the bus driver who leaned against the greyhound door. Alex smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. I was little but a start. She'd spent three weeks researching mutation advocacies and found a commune in New Orleans where she could start fresh and develop her skills without the pressure of being a heroic crime fighter with the X-Men or an executioner with Project X. Besides, it's not like Francis had bothered to answer her call. After the first three weeks she'd decided that it had been his final blow. Ironic that he was getting his revenge on her for leaving him by abandoning her in return.

True, at the time he'd given her the black card she had zero intent on using it. Of course, she figured, nobody ever really planned on giving that number a call. It was no one's first choice. But a month after they reunited, circumstances changed. Alexandria had the sinking suspicion that Ajax was up to that. It was curious that the bartender of her dreams was murdered, even more curious that his brother, once a dear friend of hers as well, delusionally claimed that it was all her doing. Curiouser and curiouser that evidence had magically appeared, supporting his claims. She never killed Matthew. She couldn't possibly have brought herself to do such a thing—especially to him, he was so soft and complete. Thusly, she didn't have a whole lot of choice but to run from the law or run to Ajax. She'd tried the latter, but he left her in the cold, further confirming her reservations. He could do whatever he wanted to her, maybe she deserved it, but wouldn't forgive him for what he did to Matthew. Or she wouldn't forgive her grandfather for making him hard. Or sometimes she wouldn't forgive herself from not saving him…it simply depended how far down spiraling the rabbit hole she felt like that night. She had known she should never go back to New York, and someone somewhere was not to be forgiven and that was the bottom line. Or at least that's what she told herself, but the truth stood that Alex was accustomed to death and the brevity of their affair would be forgotten. He wasn't the grand love her life, she'd lost that three years ago.

And she was spiraling again. She was kicking at the dirt absent mindedly when she noticed people shuffling into a line to board the bus. "I should really get a 'Thank You' card," Alex muttered under her breath. She stood up from the green bench and hefted her oversized duffle bag over her shoulder before joining the masses. She didn't know why she felt so melodramatic, she just did. Like a moody teenager, Ajax literally reset her to seventeen again. She loathed being seventeen.

Suddenly it dawned on her that Esme was inside the station still. Alex glanced at the boarding bus, then strained her eyes towards the windows and back. Part of her so badly wanted to say 'screw it' and leave the strange woman inside, but the white lighters tug inside of her argued the opposite. "Fuck," she growled. Alex stepped aside and skirted up the side of the time towards the bus driver still leaning against the door. "Sir…will you wait for me while I use the bathroom? It's a long drive…"

Nothing. The greying man just stared at her.

She sighed, willing him to be understanding with as much thought as she muster. "Sir, I'm going to bleed all over your bus if you don't let me change my tampon before New Orleans."

"…I'm gonna smoke one more cigarette. You have that long. Suggest you be quick though, they're New Ports," he said reluctantly.

She didn't hesitate and turned quickly towards the dark building.

The old seventies building was dimly lit and abandoned. "Esme?" Alex called out. No reply. Her boots thudding against the near-rotting wood floorboards was the only sound aside from the dull buzzing of the ceiling lights as the flickered. "Well if this isn't a cliché horror movie scene, then I don't know what is," Alex said to no one in particular. The women's room was nearest so she stuck her head inside first and peaked beneath the stalls. No shoes. She caught a glimpse of herself in a dirty mirror and adjusted the weight of her bag uncomfortably.

"Where are those damn vending machines?" she wondered aloud. Her feet padded into the main room, past rows and rows of empty benches. An old newspaper crunched beneath her boot, she glanced towards the vacant ticket windows. Sure, the whole scene was eerie but nothing truly seemed out of place—it was a normal 1am at the bus station. It was normal, anyways, until she heard a very loud _thud_ coming from what Alex determined to be a corridor jetting off from the main entrance. She almost grimaced, recalling the noise of bodies being thrown against solid surfaces in the workshop. As she neared pieces of yellow light seemed to alight the floor and abruptly the sound of change clinking together, followed by a thumping of a bottle dropping from a vending machine. "Esme?"

…another _thud_. "…in here, dear!" Alex ripped around the corner, pausing at the entry way to a shallow room walled with a variety of vending machines. Her eyes, however, did not meet those of her Hispanic comrade. Instead, a menacing pair of blue ones.

"What the hell…" Alex whispered taking in the scene. Ajax stood before her grinning ear to ear, twisting the cap off a bottle of Orange Fanta with his hands while his foot was inches away from the side of Esme on the floor—her pink blouse marked by an inky footprint. She seemed dazed, her mud eyes glossy and doll-like.

"I knew ya had a boyfriend…" she murmured.

"Yes, yes. Thank you for helping me retrieve my dearest Alexandria, darling. Can you believe that she was truly going to leave me again?" Ajax said to Esme in mock shock.

Alex walked cautiously towards Esme, crouching down before her. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Just a little head injury," Ajax said, gesturing to a machine. Alex let her eyes follow his direction to a smear of blood on glass, obscuring the Kit Kat bars and Butterfingers.

"Christ sake," she groaned. She moved towards Esme, and brought her head into her hands. Esme let out a whimper. "It's okay, I'll make it up to you," Alex said lowly, focusing on her injury. Ajax watched from above silently sipping soda, admiring her doctorship.

"She's just lovely, isn't she? Such a young talent," Ajax smirked. Esme groaned quietly in response.

"Fuck off," Alex said lowly. Ajax laughed. Her hands rubbed in circular motions at the back of her scalp, spreading wet blood deeper into her hair. "All done. Take some Advil when you can and get some sleep. You're about to miss your bus. Don't get stuck in the cold, Esme." Alex helped her off her feet and they rose together. Esme opened her mouth but Alex shook her head. "Just go. I'll be fine." The older woman nodded her head and meandered out of the room in stupor.

"I hope you enjoyed the rest of your freedom," Ajax said, still smiling.

"You know exactly how I've faired the last two months," she said glowering at him. She should have seen this coming.

"Your life is so dull now, you should be thanking me for giving it a little shake!" he took another swallow of orange bubbly. "No matter. We're about to have so much fun together."

"Why do I feel like you are going to be the only one enjoying themselves at my expense?" she asked sarcastically.

He was brimming with eerie childlike excitement. Ajax winked at Alex.  
"It's my turn to play doctor."


	4. Playmates (2015)

_2015_

"Looks better on you than it did on me," Ajax said, appreciating Alex in her off white hospital gown. He chose one a size to small. "Turn." Alex did as she was told, turning on the balls of her feet 90 degrees to face him. The stone floor felt like ice. Ajax rubbed his chin, "not sure that's you color though."

"It's not a prom dress." Alex was unamused, her temperament growing worse the giddier Ajax grew. On the outside her face held little emotion aside from an evident vague annoyance, but on the inside she was pressing raising panic down her throat and deep back into her chest. She should have never came back to New York.

Ajax stood and nodded towards a chair in front of his desk, wordlessly telling Alex to sit. Stubborn, she plopped down onto it gracelessly. "Ah, but make believe, darling. I think you'll soon realize that's the greatest tool here. After all, if it weren't for imagination none of this," Ajax pause, gesturing dramatically around his immaculate office, "would hardly be the operation it is today. I've surpassed your grandfather's numbers in ways he dreamt of, created more astounding mutations and made a fortune—all in the name of science—" Alex snorted at this, her stonewalled face cracking momentarily. Ajax glowered at her. She shut up. He grinned wildly just a quick, "no, no. Don't let me scare your sense of humor away. I encourage it. Humor, joy, hope… these are all things that we encourage here at the workshop now."

Alex arched an eyebrow, "since when?"

Ajax moved to a steel black file cabinet and pulled out a green folder. He sat down at his black desk in his black office chair and began to write something in red ink on a legal pad. Not getting a response, Alex began to take in her surroundings, looking for any clues about the new Francis. But instead of the usual family photos and college memorabilia, she found emptiness. All the furniture was black, as you might have noticed, the walls grey and blank, blue grey accented the closed blinds and other unsuspecting places. And it was pristine. Wall to wall filing cabinets without a single stray piece of paper out of place.

She realized that she's turned around in the cold chair when she felt the weight of Ajax's stare on the back of her neck. The room was disturbingly empty. It made her wonder…

"I find it curious that your grandfather destroyed your file," Ajax said. Alex turned, meeting his pensive gaze. "In fact, there's no trace that you even really existed. Why might that be?"

This information didn't exactly surprise her but she didn't have an answer for him. Alex hadn't been the workshops usual run-of-the-mill reclamation project. "I don't know," she said. And she meant it.

His stare lingered a moment longer before dropping back down onto his notes. He had real doctor's handwriting, she couldn't make out a single word. "Doesn't matter. We'll start a new one—"his pen paused, suddenly hovering above the page. A smile crept onto his face as he raised his bone chilling eyes back to her. "9XL422. We'll start with that."

Alex held her breath. His mood changed quickly enough to give her whiplash. Ajax, not Francis.

He flipped the folder closed, still smiling and stood. "Come along," he said as he maneuvered around his desk with the folder and notepad in hand. "It's time for the tour. I'll tell you about all of those wonderful changes that I've implemented since you departed."

 **….**

"You taught me a lot, you know," Ajax said glancing at her over his shoulder. To Alex, it mostly looked the same. Maybe a little cleaner. Still reeked of mystery and misery. There were areas closed off that use to be open… she briefly speculated that Ajax had managed to expand the premise. It was probably necessary if he really was creating as many mutants as possible. Ajax continued. "What I said about encouraging hope… I realized that we completed the experiment successfully, albeit there were some negative collateral repercussions associated with using two humans as variables…" Alex stared ahead, concentrating on what he was saying as they stepped through never ending corridors. She was grasping hardly at what Ajax was trying to explain to her. "It was Winston's idea. His model introduced variable mutant 9XL422 to sick patient 9AX020. I suppose he used you in multiple experiments, but ours yielded the highest success rate."

"You've got to be shitting me," Alex said, clinging to Ajax's delusional delusion. "You're trying to say that you and I were a social experiment. If I'm the controlled variable that would have meant that I was in on it."

"Oh I wouldn't say social experiment. You see, I was quite difficult to mutate. They literally had to burn off my nerve endings after you left, the fact alone that I was able to endure up to that point is a phenomenon. All the while I clung onto the hope that you would come back to me. It was very physical," Ajax said. "The false hope you provided was invaluable, like adrenaline in emergencies. It allowed me to not only recover quickly from each experiment but after you were subtracted from the equation, dreaming of seeing you once more—surviving for you, it gave my body the strength and incentive to finally mutate. That's one thing I'm studying with much interest at the moment as well, how the causes of mutations correlate with the specific resulting mutation."

Alex crossed her arms angrily over her chest, but knew better than to argue with the horror story he'd concocted and tried to pass off as science. "So that's it? That's what you're going to study me for?"

He leered gleefully. "No. Let's get it going," he said turning abruptly down a new hallway. "You are the ideal candidate to study the evolution of mutations."

"What?"

"The question is: can mutations mutate? Is one mutation so limited to a strict set of abilities? There's so much potential with the ability to heal. Right now, we are going to inject you with same serum we inject fresh patients with, and subject you to the same rigorous tests," Ajax said as they approached the main entrance to the laboratory. "It would be much easier if you had that file, then we could simply trace your medical history and determine what kind of stress is your activator..." Alex scowled at him. She already had an idea about the answer to his question, but she didn't let on. "But since that _so unfortunately_ isn't an option, I'm going to have lots of fun. It'll just be like old times, one of us—this time you—on the gurney, and the other— _me—_ tending to your horrendously embarrassing bodily fluid malfunctions, until we figure it all out." They entered a tattered white cubicle through a creaking screen door.

 _Francis's old barrack,_ Alex thought. _Theatrical symbolic British twat._ As Ajax held the screen back for her, Alex saw a woman sitting on the gurney against the far makeshift wall. She was bigger than Alex in every way, but beautiful with deep purple hair and dark brown eyes. A single unlit match hung from between her lips, and in her hand was a syringe filled with orange goo.

"Angel," Ajax said as he wrapped his arm around Alex, pulling her fully into the room and jamming her shoulder underneath his arm. _Possessively_. "This is my dear friend, Alexandria. Alexandria, this is Angel Dust, my right hand woman. She'll be tending to you when I'm otherwise occupied."

"Do I get a cool new supervillain name if my body does what you want it to?"

Angel smirked.

Ajax laughed like splintering ice. "Another new change I've implemented. We've abolished the numerical patient system and opted for alphabetical name organization. 9XL422, that's just play for now. We believe names are of the upmost importance. A patient who is able to retain his identity stays—well more… _sane_ shall we say. When you mutate—most of us aren't the same afterwards. So we chose names that we feel better suit our altered identities."

"So what, Angel Dust is a coke addict post-workshop surgeries? Cut the shit. You act like I don't know what it's like to mutate, Ajax."

Angel's smirked fell as she straightened up dangerously. Ajax squeezed Alex's shoulder, "Now, now Angel. We don't get to play with her until _after_ we've injected her. Besides, she must have been so young when she mutated, I doubt she really remembers. Especially with all that special treatment her family must have provided the innocent girl," Ajax chided. He turned his attention back to Alex. "You know little love, I'm not a particular fan of special treatment. But for you, well I suppose I have no choice but to bend the rules a little for my darling." Alex speculated momentarily which woman precisely whom his theatrics were for. "Normally I don't wholly oversee my patients—there are many days I'm not able to tend to some, but you tended to me so well back then. I'll have to return the favor," and with that suddenly Ajax released his grip and flung Alex forward several feet. She stumbled, throwing her hands in front of her face, bracing for connection with the gurney when Angel grabbed a fistful of hair and hauled her upright.

A dark smile graced his lips as he reveled in the scene. If Ajax could feel, he imagined he would feel the blood flooding straight to his crotch at the sight of Angel pulling Alex by the hair as she involuntarily whimpered lowly with her back to him. _This is going to be a very good time indeed._

 **...**

 **First off, thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it. I hope I did Ajax justice in this chapter. I struggled with the science language, but I think Ajax being so intelligent would be eloquently versed in his science talk-which I am not. Anyways I hope it all made sense! Feel free to let me know if anything needs clearing up.**


	5. Lessons

_March 2012_

Alex swirled her spoon around her porcelain teacup watching a sugar cube dissolve slowly into the amber liquid. Dr. Wiley had dismissed Alex from her usual lessons to lecture her over on the subject of mutations and the tortur—methods—used to activate them over afternoon tea. Winston assumed that someday his granddaughter would take over the workshop, as a hybrid mutant, herself. It would be a grand step to have a doctor capable of solving problems from that unique perspective. Alexandria's father might have never understood, the Wiley brains had clearly skipped a generation, but the girl was an absolute jewel. The power she harnessed was immeasurable. She could stop internal bleeding, mend ruptured organs, regrow broken bones… all of which completely non-invasively.

Not to say that before Alex, Dr. Wiley hadn't been recruiting specifically for this very purpose. He had several well-qualified patients that he had been hoping to mutate for this precise cause, but disgraced and dying doctors were harder to find then perhaps one would suppose. They'd lost Dr. Martin Hanson four months prior to Alexandria's arrival. A great doctor in his field, but his questionable relationship with patients in the pediatrics ward had caused him to resign before scandal erupted. Shortly after he was diagnosed with syphilis, with unfortunately by this time had already begun to ravage his heart and brain. This provided Winston a short window to mutate the doctor before the damage grew too severe for the cause, however unable to bare the stress so late in term Dr. Hansen died after numerable heart attacks.

This failure led him to his next prospect, a final year medical student who once had been promised to be the most prominent surgeon to come out of Cambridge in the last twenty years. About this same time, Dr. Wiley had received a call from his son, that his only granddaughter's adoptively family intended to send her away due to some curious changes that had taken place in her after the tragic death of her mother. Suspicious, he sent for her right away and was abundantly pleased with what he acquired.

He gazed at the girl while he spoke to her on the topic of ethics in the workshop, things she would need to know in the years to come. Winston was growing old but his life's work was excelling at an alarming rate, thanks to the most modern science and increasing _financing_. She looked dreadfully disinterested. If only he could make her understand the importance of the burden she would someday inherit. In any case, he couldn't entrust it to his own bumbling boy. And then understanding struck him like a bullet train. _Alexandria is a seventeen-year-old girl, after all._

"The guards have observed you checking in excessively on a particular patient recently," Winston said lowly. Ah, her attention was piqued he noticed as she raised her eyes from her cup in a rather startled fashion. He smiled at his granddaughter, _Girls will be girls_. "No need for alarm," he said holding raising his palm. "He is a rather important patient to us as well."

She narrowed her eyes, darting through the possible directions that he could be travelling. "If I'm not in trouble…where are you going with this?" Alex asked quietly as her skin began ombré into several shades of scarlet.

"I want you to take over his care," Winston said slowly as the idea flowed through his brain.

She nearly gasped, the thought of torturing anyone, much less 9AX020, turned her blood into ice. "I could never."

Her grandfather read her mind in the way that even vile mad scientist grandfathers can, and shook his head. He quit pacing and set down his teacup onto the vintage lace tablecloth. "Well that would be a bit ambitious to expect a young healer to run all of the activation experiments that patient 9AX020 will face. I realize that you are unfortunately rather un-ambitious and the required ability to stomach and perpetuate the necessary violent methods is not in your nature as a white lighter. Yet."

"But why 9AX020? What's so special about him?"

He chuckled. "You will tell me, child. Every morning you will prep him for his testing—do his blood work, track his heartbeat, take his temperature, etcetera. You will observe the doctors as they run their tests. You will continue to clean his wounds. Afterwards you will review their notes, weed through the information separating what is redundant and trivial from what is critical and useful, and compile the latter into his file. This is how you will learn."

It was times like this that Alex wished that she were smarter and colder. Her mother wanted her to be an ER doctor until she realized that Alexandria couldn't stand the sight of blood or pain—almost as if she could feel it herself. That was okay. Alex decided she wanted to be a marine biologist instead. She could remember picking up jellyfish on the beach, thinking that if she could throw them back into the water they would survive. It was years later that her mother confessed to her that the poisonous tide that washed them up had already killed them before she lithely came along. Next she thought she would be a geneticist… that's what grandfather did, right? Wrong. So very, very wrong. Sometimes Alexandria marveled over how she grew older that she wanted to be less and less of anything at all. She could always be a philosopher. Just because she was different didn't mean she wanted or felt capable of taking on the responsibility of the workshop. Healing mutants was one thing—her stomach had steeled up pretty soon after mutating—but creating them? By force?

Again, her grandfather sensed her discomfort at the idea. "If you'd been listening to my talk about lab ethics you might feel better. If you listened to anything—"

"I try very hard not to," Alex muttered.

"—you would feel better." Alex huffed.

 _Stubborn teenager_ , Winston thought.

 **…** **.**

 _2015_

"Well, you look like shit," Ajax said approaching Alexandria's makeshift bed. "Hope you're not catching a cold." He winked.

Alex lay still as a board on her gurney, speaking with her eyes closed too exhausted to bother opening them or appreciate his use of satirical irony. "That tends to happen after a grueling day being waterboarded. Where were you yesterday?" she asked.

"Miss me, darling?"

"You live for slow, agonizing torture."

"I live for science and experimentation," he tutted, wagging a finger at her.

Alack, her eyes remained closed. "Sure you do."

A lightly tanned hand shot at her face, one thick finger shoved her left top eyelid up over the crease. "It would do good for you to open your eyes when you are speaking to me."

"I'll add that to the list of your unsustainable expectations." She opened her other eye.

"Emergency surgery on Wilmer Esposito after my morning delivery, got pretty nasty," Ajax said, he released her and went back to his work sifting through some tools with his back turned to her. "Might as well keep those eyes closed while you can. You know, the body remembers things even after the mind forgets. For example, as a teenager I was in a bit of a car accident during a severe snowstorm that dislocated my shoulder. It healed seamlessly," he said sending her a smirk over his shoulder, "but for the next decade prior to mutating it would ache so badly whenever I drove on snowy nights. Took me even with my soaring IQ years to make the connection." When he turned back to Alex his fist was shaking gingerly and a light tinkling noise came from within. "Ah, music to my ears," he smiled. Alex narrowed her eyes at him looking for the meaning of his anecdote. He stopped, facing her, and held his palm upward and open to reveal an abundance of very sharp, silver pins. "You have been very hard to train, such a stubborn mind, my dear. So, new strategy. We'll train your body instead. The rest will follow."

"Have the beatings not been enough physical strain?" Alex asked defensively.

"Not quite. The connection between your mind and body hasn't been made, I need to fuse the two together." Ajax dropped the pins onto a metal operating tray her side. "I'm not certain how this will work on you," he said as he picked a single pin and held it between his thumb and index finger. Alex was shaking, visibly struggling to keep her eyes open in defiance while bracing herself for the onslaught of fresh pain as Ajax leaned over and lowered himself inches from her body. Ajax smirked and ran his other hand over the top her head, smoothing back strands of dark hair, "you know I'd never hurt you permanently, love." With that he moved his free hand back to her eye and positioned his thumb on her lower waterline, his index finger on her upper lashline. "Don't think of this as a punishment, think of it as a lesson," he whispered as he punctured the white membrane with the first of many pins. He pushed it in deeply. Alex gasped. Ajax made a mental note that her eyes looked like egg whites as he release his fingers from the pin.

Alex whimpered under his intense gaze, his blue eyes unmoving from her green ones. A gold tinted translucent shimmer appeared as the pin slowly began to push its way out of her eye all on its own, until it fell out and onto her cheek with a _plop_!

"Ah. The trick is to do this slowly then, so long as I allow your eye to heal I shouldn't cause any irreparable damage when I move to the cornea."

Ajax picked up another pin.

 ** _…_** ** _._**

 **Author's note:**

Sorry it took so long! I was feeling a little muddled about how to move the story along, but I watched all of the x-men movies and I now feel like I have a much better grasp on how the mutations work, which is really important to me since so much of this story takes place in the workshop. Alex doesn't have a lot of medical knowledge or interest in it, but the other characters do. I have lots of things planned out now, I just needed some chapters to explain their situation I guess.

If anyone has an opinion on how deep or explicative I should go into the Ajax's torture methods please share. I'm a bit torn on how necessary it is to the story.

 **Sarah** \- Thank you! So yeah, Ajax did kill Alex's father but Alex and her family are all my OC's. I kind of replaced the original Doctor Killebrew from Deadpool with her family line for the story. I wasn't too familiar with X-Men when I started either!

 **Mirellabelle** \- Stay tuned ;)

 **Shalizay** \- Thank you for the most reviews! Appreciate it!

 **Liquidation** \- More on it's way! Promise, it'll get better J


	6. Sleepover Part I (2015)

"I've never done this with a patient before, at least not personally," Ajax said as he restrapped Alex for her next experiment. He enclosed her ankles, one to each front leg of her chair with the worn brown leather belts. Next he belted her midsection to the chair's back, and pressed down the bit of her splotchy gown that had hiked up her thighs as he threw her a wink, "modesty." Her eyes _hurt_. It was the only thing that kept Alex from rolling them. "Usually I wouldn't even have Angel monitor the sleep depravation trials—they rarely yield the desired results—but I thought 'to hell, a sleepover might be fun.' And we haven't tried it yet with you, so why not have a go?"

Ajax was being uncharacteristically chatty, although by now Alex has basically dismissed any notions of Ajax being exceptionally suspicious. Everything that he did was motivated by an awful curiosity or sadistic streak, Alex knew that now, and often wondered if he had always been this way. Had she missed something years ago? Had she really been so naïve, or he so cunning? Either way, she determined both were strong possibilities. "I'm honored, truly Ajax. You're attentiveness is spoiling me."

He grinned as he crossed her wrists and held them gingerly as he rose from his crouch before her and tethered her together, hanging her arms from a low hook that dropped down from a pipe somewhere above them. "You're finally beginning to appreciate me."

"It took some adjustment time," Alex replied. She wasn't lying. The mental strain had been just as bad as the rigorous torture schedule that she had been exposed to the last three weeks. At first, she had to rewire her recognition and predetermined feelings towards "Ajax", formerly known to her as Francis. She had to abandon everything that she knew about that face, that voice, that scent… and convince her psyche that this man, Ajax, is a stranger that happened to know quite a bit about her. But then again, he probably knew quite a bit about every one of his patients. After the initial week, she had to quell her resentment towards the workshop and it's new host of inhabitants. Alex reminded herself that she had the upper hand in knowing how to handle this ring of hell, and she knew that the resentment would be more wear and tear to her than affect anyone else. No one cared about how angry she was. It was best to let it go and come to terms. Ajax of course helped cement that understanding as he gleefully poked pins into each eye, silently for hours on end, a few nights ago. Humor. Humor the doctor, give him what he wants, and go quietly into the night. Unlike the patients that signed up for Project X, she hadn't a whole lot to live for in the outside world. Until her return to New York, she lived the lifestyle of a gypsy: completely alone and free to come and go as she pleased. And she did, never staying in one city too long. She was never afraid of being alone; it was in this place full of men that scared her.

After giving her wrists a few tugs, he seemed satisfied with her security. Ajax crossed the room and pulled a metal folding chair out of the shadowy corner near the cell-like space's entrance that they had came in thru, then placed it mere feet in front of her. He walked back into the shadows, then returned with a handful of long, narrow papers…restaurant menus? He noticed her, noticing him as he sat down before her. "I was thinking we could order out tonight. I imagine that cafeteria food must be wretched to you, although I've long forgotten the taste of the gruel we funnel down your throats."

"Wha—let me get this straight: your concerned that I don't like the compound meals?"

"Oh come now, Alexandria. I'm not a savage," he chuckled. She wasn't buying it, but Ajax didn't expect her to. "I had Angel scavenge these for me. Let's see, we've got Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Seafood, Greek…" he said in complete seriousness as he flipped through his stack.

"I like Chinese food," she said hesitantly.

"Really? I would've pegged you for the Indian type," he responded nonchalantly.

"You don't remember what food tastes like, remember?"

"Touche. I should I read it to you or do you know what you want?"  
She thought it out quickly. Was this any indication of how he intended on keeping her awake? Why would he strengthen her? "Read it to me, please."

Ajax stared at her briefly, searching for something on her face but acquiesced to her request momentarily. "Alright."

He read, flickering his eyes across her features every four items or so on the extensive cheap takeout menu. She let her eyes close as her conscious gave into the resonance of his voice, the way he made General Tso sound like poetry, as she lazily tried to connect the dots in this fun, new experiment that Ajax was seemingly very invested in.

"I'll have the Sweet and Sour chicken with white rice and a miso soup."

"Miso soup is Japanese, love."  
"But you read it off the menu," she pointed out.

Ajax smirked, "I was quite certain that you weren't listening."

"But I was, and now it looks like Angel is going to have to hunt me down some Miso Soup."

His smirk grew wider and something akin to prideful deference seemed to glimmer somewhere in the depths of his crystal blues. "It seems she will." He rose from his chair and disappeared into the darkness. Alex heard the metal clang of her cage as he exited, sniggering to himself. Not playing his games displeased him, but if she was too good at them that could set him off as well. She reasoned that for once, this experiment could be less painful if she indulged his relatively good mood just so. She tried to relax, but without the British drawl consuming her thoughts, she was acutely aware of a splinter digging through her hospital gown and piercing her skin from the back of her chair.

Ajax promptly returned and resumed his seat. They gazed at each other, smugness penetrating glazed curiosity. She waited on him and he basked in that.

10 minutes went by. It dawned on Alex that he wasn't wearing his white doctors coat. Unusual. An indicator that he didn't intend on getting dirty tonight, or at least not immediately.

"You're going to have to untie me so I can eat," Alex sighed.

"Jumping ahead, are we? We'll cross that bridge when we arrive on it. Let's start with this: how has your time been at the workshop this time compared to the last?" Ajax asked.

"About the same. I get to see you're handsome face most days. Can't complain too much."

"And Angel Dust? Are you girls bonding?"

Alex snorted. "She's a keeper, that's for sure."

"Is that jealousy I hear?" Ajax asked with a smirk.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't recall the torture being this excessive once proven to not bring about a mutation. Perhaps if she were the one less jealous…"

"Things have changed."

"I've noticed. And that's why you want me to compare and contrast my experiences? Would you like my review to compare with your own notes?"

"You're pushing it, love. We're having a nice chat."

Alex looked down at her feet bound individually to the chair legs. The leather was beginning to wear thin red lines into her skin. "You're the only doctor here, aren't you?" Ajax laughed. Alex shook her head simultaneously surprised yet somehow unsurprised. "What do you _want_ from me, Ajax?"

 ** _…._**

 **Authors Note:**

We're baaaccck. So sorry guys. I put a hold on this story for a number of reasons pertaining to reflection and planning.

First of all, I'm really struggling with the fact that I chose to name Alexandria 'Alex' in this story because reading about Ajax and Alex confuses even me. It irritates me consistently. Anyone else feel this way?

Secondly I'm surprised I haven't gotten a review about how Mary-sue Alex comes dangerously close to being. I'm having a hard time with the consistency and temperament of her character. I don't think Ajax would crave someone who was too complying or stood against him too much. It's not just in this story, but I've been rereading my old ones and I've noticed how this is a trend with a lot of my female characters as awful as that is. They're not as strong as I would like them to be. Something I learned in my Young Adult Fiction class is character sketches, which I think will really help me strengthen Alex and future characters because I can refer to how she's _supposed_ to be any time I feel myself straying from that. I've been working on this with my Avenger's fan fic lately.

Bottom line: Bare with me. This fiction isn't has good as it could be and I'm rededicating myself so it can reach its full potential. Thanks for sticking around J


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